Page 62 of Claim Me
“Are you okay?” He swept his gaze into the room, his eyes falling to the flower petals and stems I’d yet to pick up from the mess I’d created.
“I’m fine. Don’t I look just dandy?” No, I had to calm down. It was time for a clearer head. If that was possible. I took several gasping breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m not upset with you.”
“I understand.”
“No, you can’t, but that’s okay.”
His voice was loud, so much so I wanted to smack him. He’d been told I was hard of hearing. At least his full lips made them easy to read. Maybe I should consider it a plus instead of feeling as if he was pitying me.
He opened his mouth, closing it immediately. Obviously, I’d shocked the hell out of him. Well, what a shame.
Exhaling, I chastised myself. What the hell was I doing? The men had been surrounding the house without much of a break for well over twelve hours while I remained in a comfy home.
“I’m sorry. I’m not usually so rude. Would you like something to drink? I didn’t get a chance to go to the grocery store before returning home, but I do have some soft drinks and bottles of water.”
His brow furrowed. The poor guy wasn’t used to some wayward chick he’d been assigned to protected being kind to him. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Oh, come on. Your boss has been gone for hours. What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” I knew he was saying something as I walked away and while I could hear several words, I purposely ignored them.
I wasn’t angry with this poor guy. I was furious with Kazimir, but even more so with myself. No one and certainly no man had ever gotten under my skin the way the tall, gorgeous, and sexy Russian had done. Shame on me. The person I should be furious with was this Russian mobster. How ridiculous to think of Vlad whatever Popov as anything different than Kazimir. But perhaps I was wrong.
“Would you prefer a Diet Coke or a Sprite? I also have one Dr. Pepper.”
When he didn’t answer right away, I lifted my head, doing nothing more than giving him an imploring look.
“Dr. Pepper?”
“Good choice.” I handed it to him, grabbing a diet drink for myself. Dr. Pepper was Charlie’s favorite soft drink. Maybe offering the last can was some cathartic way of admitting his death. I’d made a call to the crematorium that Charlie had selected. He’d forced me to sit through an entire conversation of what he wanted after his death after my parents had… died. The thought repulsed me even today.
With his death involving a horrific crime, it would take days to release the body. At least I knew.
“What’s your name?”
“Ryker.”
“You’re not Russian.”
He laughed. “No, I am not. I think the Dmitriyevs are glad I’m not.”
I leaned against the refrigerator. “I don’t believe that. You seem like a very capable man. I’m curious. What’s it like working for Kazimir?”
“I don’t really work directly for him. I work for… Mikhail Dmitriyev.”
“Ah, yes, the great Pakhan.”
Maybe the evil girl inside of me enjoyed surprising people. “Yes, the Pakhan.” He took a swallow of his drink, even more uncomfortable now that I was grilling him. Too bad. I had a feeling I’d gain more truthful information out of him than I would Kazimir.
“And exactly what do you do, Ryker? Do you clean up after all the dirty work or are you the kind of man who prefers getting your hands filthy?”
His laugh was half-hearted. “I watch the casino floors.”
“As a bouncer.”
“I’m part of casino security specializing in catching those trying to cheat the system. I’m also in charge of monitoring the security systems. The cameras often catch what the naked eye can’t. At least I get to use the training I received in the Marines.”
Now he surprised me. “Wow. Talented. That’s amazing.” As Kazimir had insisted, they were running a billion-dollar business.
“It does take a special level of training. Plus, I have a good eye. I can spot a person cheating from across the room.”
